


The Summons

by keylimepie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, Mild Smut, Romance, Tags Are Hard, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 02:30:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11049432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keylimepie/pseuds/keylimepie
Summary: A lonely fanfiction writer has been way too focused on a certain archangel for way too long, until one evening when everything changes.





	The Summons

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Gabriel Monthly Challenge May prompt. I freely admit that this is really, really weird and it kind of happened because I wanted to play around with the "trashcan" thing as in fandom trashcan rather than literal trashcan... and here we are. I'm sorry this took me all month to get to.

The late nights and early mornings were really taking their toll on her. Between the need to seize the best evening hours to do rideshare driving for extra money, and the 6 a.m. wakeup time for her other daily grind, and all the little mundane tasks in between, it was adding up to a significant sleep deprivation. And while sleep deprivation could be a pretty serious problem, it somehow seemed less of a concern to her than the soul deprivation that came from not having enough time to indulge in any creative efforts. So when a few extra moments could be found here and there, they were most often prioritized for the latter rather than the former. Painting and sewing while exhausted lead to some interesting creations to be sure, but writing fanfiction in this state was both more fulfilling and more bizarre. 

It was two a.m. and she was sitting at her kitchen table, typing away. She was on hour three of paging back and forth between staring at photos of a certain golden-eyed archangel and banging out paragraph after paragraph of fanfiction about him. The kitchen was an absolute disaster, she knew, but she was trying to ignore that fact. Takeout containers everywhere, dishes lining the counter near the sink, pots with dried on foodstuff and stale baked goods piled on the stove. The cats had not helped matters much, batting things off and chasing them around the floor. There was trash on the floor underneath the table and she idly played with it with her feet without giving it a conscious thought. As she twisted her toes around the rim of a paper coffee cup, her eyes fluttered shut and her chin dropped down to her chest. 

A moment later, she blinked her eyes open and looked at the screen. “Why did I type that in Latin?” she muttered to herself. “I don't even know any Latin, besides the exorcism.” 

“Actually, Sugar, it looks like you do.” She jumped, startled, her limbs flailing in surprise. That voice had come from just across the table. It sounded like someone was lying on the bench over there. And it sounded just like... nah, couldn't be. She was just imagining it; she was just way way too deep in this fandom and should probably just hit save and go to bed. But, what if...? She sat up straighter and peered over the top of the laptop screen just as he sat up. Their eyes met. His eyes twinkled golden brown in the moonlight. 

“Holy crap,” she said. “Are you really Gabriel?” She reached her arm across and poked the tip of his nose with her fingertip. Solid. Real. “Holy crap,” she reiterated. 

“Yikes, lady! Yes, I'm Gabriel. Easy on the schnoz. What did you summon me for, anyway?” 

“I... what?” 

“The summoning!” he repeated, tapping the back of the laptop. “You typed it in your little box and poof, here I am, pulled out of my happy little beach vacay. So what's sooo important, Sweet Cheeks?” 

“I... okay, this is it I guess. I am absolutely 100% way way to freaking deep in this Gabriel trashcan. And literal trashcan,” she added, gesturing at the kitchen. “I've gone batty, I'm hallucinating archangels, and I'm not even going to make my posting deadline. Holy crap I need a drink.” She slid out of the seat to walk toward the cabinet where the gin was kept, but the earlier startled jump had firmly wedged the Starbucks cup onto her foot and she tumbled to the kitchen floor, landing hard on her hip and coming to rest with her face in a paper takeout box from the Whole Foods hot bar. “Gross,” she muttered, wiping bacon mac and cheese sauce from her cheek. 

Gabriel snickered. “Oh, this is priceless. My first serious summoning in aaaages and I get America's Funniest Home Videos. The only thing that fall needed was the cartoon music.” He burst into full-on laughter, waving his hands in the air in amusement. She glared at him from the floor, but he only laughed harder at the angry-faced lady with the cheese sauce in her hair. 

“Stop laughing and help me out of this trashcan. I think my foot is stuck in a coffee cup,” she grouched. “Look, I'm sure this hallucination is a way my brain is helping me process this obsession and maybe get back to some semblance of normalcy, so as a manifestation of my subconscious you must have some kind of clever insight. And as an all-powerful archangel, you must be able to help lift my ass off this floor and... oooh, you should be able to snap your fingers and clean my kitchen, yes? So one way or another, do something useful!” 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I could. Do that. Not the.. insight thing, but the rest.” He stood up and took a step closer, then reached his hand down and pulled her gently to her feet. He brushed his hand across her cheek and hair and the mess was cleaned off of them. 

He then guided her gently to her seat, knelt on the floor, lifted her foot and banished the offending paper cup. He squeezed his hands gently around her bare foot and a little glow of light pulsed around it. “Just a little bruising, all gone now,” he promised. “Also your, uhh... you landed on... well I fixed that too. Would have been quite the bruise by tomorrow.” With a wink, he snapped his fingers in the air and the entire kitchen was spotless. 

“Thank you,” she said, breathlessly. “I am sorry that I disturbed you. I didn't even mean to type that! How could I have come up with that when I don't even know that spell or whatever?” Gabriel stood up and slid into the seat next to her, squinting at the computer screen. 

“Depends. Could be... hmm, a manifestation of longing? Have you been... nah, that's silly,” he dismissed, waving his hand. “Must have been autocorrect.” 

“Have I been what?” she asked, frowning. 

“Weellll, if someone was longing for me...” 

“Um, yeah. You could say that,” she said with a chuckle. She blushed and looked down at her hands. 

He looked surprised, but continued. “Well that longing could coalesce itself into a spell that previously hadn't existed. So... I mean, if someone was really _really_ longing for me, they could... meditate so hard that they actually brought a summoning spell into existence. But that would take a lot of...” he broke off and stared at her in awe. “Holy crap. Yeah, I feel that.” 

She took a deep breath and reached her hand over to caress the back of his hand with her fingertips. “So what do we do about it?” she asked, biting her lower lip. 

Both of Gabriel's eyebrows shot up. “Well ah... I suppose a longing like that really... should be satisfied,” he stammered. He brushed her hair back from her face and leaned down and kissed her, tentatively. She leaned into the kiss and deepened it, her lips parting against his. His hands were soon tangled in her hair and she clutched desperately at his shirt front. After a long, hungry kiss, they broke off so she could breathe. 

“Okay?” he said. 

“Yeah... you?” 

“Oh yes.” He stroked his thumb across her lips. “Bedroom?” he asked, hopefully. 

“Oh hell yes,” she replied. 

They made their way to her bedroom, losing clothing along the way, and fell into the bed completely naked. Gabriel was an enthusiastic lover, his every caress, nibble, and lick with gusto. He kissed her everywhere, and was delighted with every cry and moan he could draw from her lips. She responded just as enthusiastically, touching and tasting him, marveling at how his skin felt against hers. “Ready?” he whispered against her ear, and when she whispered her assent, he slid inside of her. They had amazing sex for what seemed like hours, and afterward she fell asleep against his chest, held tightly in his arms. 

It was 6 a.m. and her phone alarm was going off, drawing her out of a deep sleep. “Heat of the Moment” blared from her phone. “Since when is that my alarm,” she mumbled, reaching over to swipe it off. She patted across the bed but found it empty. Even the cats were nowhere to be found. “Holy crap, what a dream,” she sighed. “That seemed way too real.” 

She made her way to the kitchen and blinked in surprise. It was spotless. Every dish was washed and put away, the counters scrubbed, the floor shining. Even the dusting had been done and the windows looked shiny and clear. Her laptop was closed on the table. Sitting on the lid was a watermelon Jolly Rancher, her absolute favorite candy. She picked up the candy and opened the laptop lid, wondering if she had hit save on her unfinished work before apparently wandering off to deep clean the kitchen and then have weird dreams about Gabriel. 

The story was finished. Gone was the mysterious Latin wording, but in it's place was paragraph after paragraph of deliciously descriptive smut. It was a story that she'd apparently finished and posted last night before turning in, she realized as she looked through her notifications at all the comments and likes. People were really enjoying that realistic, well-described sex scene, and hoped that she'd write more. 

“Yeah, that'll be tough when I don't know how I wrote it to begin with,” she sighed glumly. “Maybe I should quit this hobby and just... go out with a bang.” 

“Well, I can help you with the 'bang', but I think you should probably keep writing,” said a familiar voice from behind her. She leapt to her feet and whirled around. There he was. Gabriel. Gorgeous, golden hair still floppy and mussed from the night's activities, his clothes wrinkled from a night spent strewn on her bedroom floor. He looked amazing. He held a paper bag in one hand and two coffee cups in the other. 

“I went to fetch us breakfast, Cupcake. Sorry if you were worried. Here, try not to get this stuck on your foot,” he said, setting the coffee on the table. “There's donuts too. Humans love donuts for breakfast,” he said confidently, plopping the bag next to her laptop. His hands free, he slid them around her waist. “'Mornin',” he said softly, gazing into her eyes. 

“You're real,” she squeaked as he pulled her closer. 

“I'm real, and I'm yours,” he said, kissing her gently. 

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I'm not saying that this is autobiographical, but I do live in a sleep-deprived trashcan and mostly survive off Starbucks and the Whole Foods hot bar. You just go ahead and assume what you'd like about the rest of my life.


End file.
